


Perfect

by shocked_into_shame



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Body Worship, Disabled Character, Even though this BARELY counts as porn, Falling In Love, Hand Jobs, HarringrovePornathon, I tried to make this really respectful and tender and loving, M/M, Paralysis, Possible Spoilers, Shooting, post-season 3, unless feelings porn is a thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 19:59:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19383685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shocked_into_shame/pseuds/shocked_into_shame
Summary: After the possession, after the sacrifice, Billy is paralyzed from the hips down. He has to adjust to his new life, his new friends, and his new home.Adjusting to falling in love with Steve Harrington is probably the easiest thing about it all.Day 4 of HarringrovePornathon, even though it barely counts as porn.





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> This is something entirely out of my comfort zone that I am writing because of this week’s prompts. And it’s an idea I really like but that is daunting to me. 
> 
> I am an able bodied person. I have not experienced what I am writing about here. I have done some research and thought a lot to try to make this as respectful as possible. And the pron part of this is really secondary to the feelings part of this. (As is the case with most of my writing.)
> 
> Anyways, I have thought a lot about what sex means to different people and I think it’s important that we constantly challenge the norms and notions of what enjoyable/valid sex is. Everyone can enjoy sex, even if it isn’t the typical idea of what sex is. Sex doesn't have to be penetrative to be valid. Sex doesn't have to be to completion to be valid. That’s what I’m hoping to get out of this fic. 
> 
> I really tried to approach writing this with as much tenderness and care as I possibly could, and if anyone wants to point out something I did wrong - PLEASE TELL ME!

 

Billy wasn’t scared of dying. Not after he had looked death personified right in the face. Not after he had something that was _truly_ evil inhabit his body and play puppeteer. 

 

When he had finally snapped out of it, jumped in front of the line of fire, he wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraid to take a bullet for this soft-spoken, powerful girl who had finally seen through all of his bullshit. She had reached out to him when no one else would, reminded him that deep down he was still a human being. He was willing to die for her. 

 

He was going to see his mom again. It was okay. 

 

So, when the first bullet hit his body, right after he shouted for Jane to _run, run as fast as you can,_ he was not afraid. 

 

The best laid plans of mice and men, and all of that jazz. He had survived to see another day. The Soviets had left him on the floor of the basement of Starcourt, thinking him dead. He probably would have been, if not for the whole supernatural strength coursing through his veins. After the fighting was done the party rescued him, promptly rushing him to the hospital and delivering the now-discovered antidote to his little possession problem. 

 

But bullets don’t just _hit_ you. It doesn’t happen like that. And for Billy, the first had grazed his shoulder. The second had buried into his right calf. 

 

The last bullet lodged itself into his spinal column. Or so the doctors tell him. 

 

It’s a funny thing, the spinal column. The support for your entire body - every time you move, everything you feel - contained to a thin strip of vertebrae. Such an important structure, succumbing to something as small as a metal bullet. 

 

When he came to, in a hospital bed surrounded by panicked little kids and horribly concerned adults, his first thought was: _I can’t believe I’m alive right now_. 

 

The second thought was: _I think this demon is out of me._

 

And the final, most pressing thought was: _I can’t feel my legs_. 

 

He looked down. Sure enough - his legs were still there. He could see his toes poking out from the edge of the rough blanket draped over him. He tried to move them. Nothing. 

 

They just sat there, staring back at him. He tried again. Thought as hard as he possibly could _move toes._

 

_Move your toes._

 

_Move your fucking toes._  

 

That bleeded into demanding, out loud, for his toes to just fucking _move_. 

 

They didn’t move. 

 

He couldn’t feel his legs. Or really _anything_ from his hips downward. 

 

Max had grabbed his hand and clutched it. He clutched back. Things were forgiven, he guessed. “Why can’t I move my toes?” he questioned. 

 

Hopper sighed from across the room. 

* * *

Neil didn’t want him in the house anymore. Something about sending an angry horde of rats to crawl all over him in his sleep was off putting, apparently. But that was okay. Billy was 18 and Neil didn't owe him anything. _And_  Billy had a semblance of a family now - living with the Chief and Jane in their cabin. Max came to visit every day. Then the rest of the kids - the whole lot of them. 

 

Things weren’t perfect. There were a lot of things he needed to relearn about living, now that his body functioned differently. Getting dressed was frustrating. Other, more embarrassing things, were frustrating too. But he was learning how to live day by day, and at least he didn’t need functioning legs to do bicep curls or to smoke a cigarette _thank you very much._

 

He seemed to be forgiven for the whole Mind Flayer (it finally had a name, now) thing as well as the whole _being generally an asshole_ thing. He guessed that having a sacrificial death for a kid will do that. Even if he didn’t actually _die_. The intention was the same. 

 

So all the kids came constantly to see him and talk to him and teach him to play _Dungeons and Dragons_ and push him around the woods in his wheelchair. 

 

Which was something that needed getting used to. “Are you okay?” Max had asked, staring at him with those manic green eyes the first time he had used his chair. 

 

“Yeah, kid,” he gruffed. “Guess you aren’t the only zoomer now.”

 

Max had looked startled, like she didn’t know how to respond to that. Billy smiled at her sharply and she laughed, touching his shoulder. It felt good to finally be on the same side. 

 

So the kids wormed their way into his life, into his heart. Especially Max and Jane. His little sisters. They might not be blood, but he had decided. _They are mine._  

 

With the kids came one Steve Harrington. Steve had suffered the direct result of all the anger and turmoil coursing through his veins. He had never deserved it. Billy had checked out, punched him over and over and over, but in his head, he was punching _someone else_. 

 

It didn’t change the fact that he had fucked up Steve’s face. Could have killed him. Could have killed the prettiest boy in Hawkins, Indiana (and possibly the entire midwest) and for what? 

 

He didn’t expect Steve to come around to him like the kids did. Kids had a way of doing that - of bouncing back and forgiving. But then the pessimism of adulthood sets in and forgiveness becomes more difficult. Billy knew that more than anyone else. 

 

But not Steve Harrington. He was awkward, and a little dense, but he wasn’t a pessimist. Even after all of the supernatural shit he had dealt with, he was still capable of forgiveness. The first time he visited Billy at the cabin, Billy had been sitting in his chair outside with Jane, reading a magazine and enjoying the sun. Harrington strolled up to them, holding a box of donuts. Jane dug in without thinking twice and Billy just smiled at him. 

 

Jane knew how to make herself scarce. She ran into the house, said she was going to call Max and talk to her about the newest episode of _Miami Vice_. She took the damn donuts with her. 

 

Steve had stood there, hands in his pockets, kicking pebbles with his sneaker. Billy huffed and gestured to the folding chair near him. “Sit down, Harrington,” he grumbled. “You’re making me nervous.” 

 

Billy lit a cigarette and took a slow drag. 

 

“Sorry, sorry,” Steve responded in that panicked way he sometimes did. Billy offered him his cigarette and he nodded, taking it from him and taking a puff. Something about sharing a cigarette with the pretty boy made Billy’s heart flutter. 

 

They sat in awkward silence until Steve finally broke it with, “Nice chair.” 

 

Billy’s eyebrows shot up to his forehead. Steve went beet red and immediately moved to back pedal, to correct himself. Instead, Billy laughed, his shoulders shaking, and he threw his head back. Tears came to his eyes he laughed so hard. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done that. 

 

Steve added his own nervous chuckle, and once Billy could finally talk he said, “ _Thanks_.” And he really meant it. 

 

* * *

Things progressed rather quickly from there. Steve became his _best friend_ first. And then… more. Slowly. Organically. The first time they kissed, they had been watching a stupid movie on Hopper’s couch, and then the next second Steve’s hand was cupping his jaw and pressing a tender, delicate kiss to his lips and it was like the heavens had opened up and the angels sang. 

 

Steve pulled away and pressed his forehead to Billy’s, his eyes closed and a blissed out smile on his face. Billy’s heart did a flip in his chest and he let out a shaky breath. “That was nice,” he murmured. Steve moved to respond, but then Billy closed the gap and joined their lips again, slotting their mouths together perfectly. _Like we were made for each other_ , the romantic part of Billy’s brain sang. He reached for Steve’s shoulders, bringing him closer so their chests were pressed tight together. 

 

When they pulled away again, gasping for breath, Billy realized that Steve had a hand on his knee. The sight made his heart do that _thing_ again. He couldn’t feel the sensation on his knee, but just seeing Steve’s hand there made him happier than he could express. 

 

Steve was also happy with the situation, judging by the insistent bulge in his pants. Billy reached over and put his hand to Steve’s fly, grinning wildly. He expected a moan, or a curse, or maybe a shuddery breath of his name. 

 

Instead he got a panicked Steve jumping up and off the couch, almost halfway across the room. “What the hell?” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

 

“I…” Steve rubbed at his forehead and pushed his hair back. His brown-green eyes were blown but manic. “I just didn’t. I didn’t think you’d…” 

 

“That I’d what?” 

 

Steve took a hesitant step forward. “Be.. you know. Interested. In that.” 

 

Billy scoffed. “Are you kidding me? Harrington - _look at you_ . How could I _not_ be interested?”

 

Steve looked at him, all panicked like he really didn’t want to say what he was going to say next but couldn’t _not_ say it. “Because you can’t. You can’t… Get it up. Or come. So what’s the point?”

 

“Oh.” Billy looked down at his lap. He hadn’t considered that Steve would be that weirded out by all of this. “I see.”

 

“I’m not saying I wouldn’t want to,” Steve let out in a rush of breath, returning to his seat and grabbing Billy’s hand. “I do. I really do. But would you even _enjoy_ something like that? Wouldn’t it just be a chore for you?”

 

Billy sighed and shook his head. “You really are thick, Harrington.” Steve looked affronted. Billy gestured to his lap with his free hand. “ _This_ might not be working, but _this_ still is.” Billy pointed to his temple. “And _this_ thinks you are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life, and anything we do together is going to blow my mind.” 

 

Steve smiled, eyes watery. “Oh, Billy…”

 

Billy gave him a hard shove. “Don’t get all soft on me. I can still beat your ass.” 

 

“Don’t I know it,” Steve quipped back, reaching for Billy and rubbing a gentle hand through his hair. It made Billy’s chest feel all warm and tight. “Don’t I fucking know it.”

 

* * *

Things didn’t happen for them that night, not when Jim and Eleven came back from their movie, chattering excitedly about what they saw and especially about the _massive popcorn_ that they got. 

 

They didn’t get more alone time for what felt like an eternity, only it was really just a few days of waiting. Billy never claimed to be anything other than an impatient bitch. 

 

And when they did finally get that alone time, not much happened at first. Just the same old same old, sitting side by side in Billy’s bed, propped up on his headboard, and passing a cigarette back and forth between them, talking about whatever silly thing came to their minds. They smoked the cigarette down to a little nub of ashes. Billy’s chest felt heavy. 

 

God, Steve Harrington was such a looker. It made his head spin, really, as he glanced over at him, taking in the strong line of his profile, his warm brown eyes, his floppy hair, his _mouth_ . Everything about Steve Harrington was etched from the gods directly - Billy _knew_ this - and the fact that he got to reach out and touch was nothing short of a miracle. 

 

He reached for the lapel of Steve’s white jacket. Steve turned and smiled at him, a soft goofy thing that made Billy feel like he was flying. He nudged Steve forward and pressed their mouths together. The second they made contact he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, and he had to hold back a joyous laugh. Kissing Steve Harrington was never going to get boring. Never. 

 

Especially not when Steve was reaching forward and curling his hands in Billy’s hair, tugging slightly and making Billy sigh. Billy pawed at Steve’s cheek, deepening the kiss. The first press of their tongues together had Billy seeing stars behind his eyelids. Steve’s breath was getting ragged, and he kept letting out these little choked noises in his throat. It was the most amazing thing Billy had ever heard. 

 

Billy pulled away and pressed his now sweaty forehead against Steve’s. “Let’s get fucking naked,” he whispered, and Steve laughed almost instantly.

 

“You really don’t have any tact, man,” he whispered fondly.

 

“I have nothing but tact, asshole.” 

 

Steve’s pulled away, hands still entwined in Billy’s hair, and raised his eyebrows. Billy’s mock-seriousness melted away into gentle laughter, and then Steve was kissing him silly again, lips brushing against each other’s over and over until Billy could not stand for Steve to be clothed for one more goddamn second. 

 

Steve chuckled and began to shrug off his jacket and then his shirt, and _oh_ , did Billy say all of that out loud? He shrugged out of his own muscle tee and Steve reached down and slid the shorts off of his legs. 

 

And then Steve looked down. And frowned. “No,” Billy demanded, tilting his chin up. “Don’t worry about whatever is going on down there. It doesn’t _matter_. I’m going to enjoy this no matter what.” 

 

“Okay,” Steve murmured and kissed him again, a soft, lovely thing that made Billy smile. He stood up and began to unbutton his jeans, and Billy watched, enraptured, as he pulled down his pants and boxers. Jesus, he was a sight for sore eyes. Everything about him was _stunning._

 

“Come here,” Billy demanded, and then Steve was leaning forward and kissing him senseless. And Billy needed something, anything - and quickly. 

 

“You are so beautiful,” Steve gasped, pulling away and reaching down to paw at Billy’s chest. He tweaked a nipple, which made Billy sigh, his head lolling to the side. “You are the most beautiful fucking thing I have ever seen.”

 

“Steve…” Billy responded sheepishly. 

 

“I’m serious. Your body is perfect. Just _perfect.”_ Steve raked his eyes all over the plains of Billy’s chest and hips and legs, and Billy felt more vulnerable than ever. Steve leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. And then his jaw. Down to his neck, and his shoulder, and down the expanse of his chest. Billy’s hands shook. “Everything about you is perfect. The way you look. The way you feel. The way you _smell_ ,” Steve pressed his head to Billy’s chest. “I can hear your heartbeat. This is perfect, too.”

 

“Steve. I’m not…” 

 

“You are. This body has been through so much. And look at you. You’re here. With me. And you’re perfect.” 

 

Suddenly they were kissing again, more desperate than before, and Billy threw everything into the kiss, clutching at Steve’s bare shoulders, his fingernails digging in. He reached for Steve, touching his chest and working his way down to between his legs, watched as Steve shuddered as Billy pawed at him. And even though this wasn’t what Billy was used to - even though things weren’t the _same_ as they once were… Bringing Steve to the edge with his hand, watching the pleasure flick across his face and his eyebrows tighten - it was stunning. It made Billy’s head spin and his chest clench. 

 

“Fuck,” Steve breathed, before pulling him back into a kiss. Billy kept rubbing at that place, faster now, and Steve’s lips were slack against his. Steve pulled away and buried his face in Billy’s shoulder, kissing and biting and moaning into the skin there. Billy’s breaths came out in hard pants and he kept moving his hand, needing to bring Steve to a climax. 

 

“So perfect,” Steve muttered against the skin of his throat. “You are just so beautiful, Billy.” Billy gasped, his hands shaking. Steve grasped at his hair, his chest, even his thighs, which he couldn’t feel but he could _see_ , he could see how much just using his hand was affecting Steve. He could see and feel and hear it, clear as day, and as Steve tumbled over the edge, spilling into his hand and biting down on his shoulder, Billy felt tears in his eyes. 

 

It wasn’t what he was used to. It wasn’t the same as it would have been, long ago. But it was _perfect_. Steve was trying desperately to catch his breath as he reached forward and threw his arms around Billy’s shoulders, pulling him close. 

 

“Steve,” Billy whispered, clutching him back. 

 

“You’re perfect,” Steve whispered in reply. 

 

And in that moment, feeling Steve Harrington against his chest, hearts pounding, hair matted with sweat - in that moment of the _afterglow_ , knowing that he just made Steve Harrington fall apart in his arms. Knowing that he could kiss Steve Harrington all he wanted. Knowing that even if things were different they were still _good_. 

 

Well, he sure as fuck felt perfect. 


End file.
